Still Life with Strings (19 page)

“Get out or I’ll call
the police.”

He stubs his smoke in
an empty mug and gives me a look that says,
I dare you.

I give him a steely
look in return and begin dialling those three little numbers. When the operator
swiftly answers, “Nine, nine, nine. What’s your emergency?” Patrick’s chair
squeals against the linoleum as he gets to his feet.

“Fine. I’m going,” he
spits, and I hang up the phone just as the front door opens and slams shut.
Hmm, he must have been in a spot of bother with the police recently and doesn’t
want any more run-ins.

Patrick’s not clever
enough to be completely evil; however, he is an addict and a leech. I can’t
afford to have him in this house wreaking havoc with everyone’s routines. He’s
never been a dad to Pete, April, or Alec, and the only reason he ever comes
here is for money and a roof over his head.

As I go to find
breakfast, I look down to see that my hands are shaking, so I make a cup of
camomile tea in the hopes that it will settle my nerves. I try to steer clear
of anti-anxiety medication, because like Patrick I’m an addict and I can’t do
drugs of any sort in half measures.

Perhaps that’s why I
can’t stand to have him around, because in a way he’s like a mirror held up to
my own flaws.

After breakfast I get
ready for work, and I’m late so I flag a taxi on my way. There’s an afternoon
as well as an evening event today, so my shift is going to be a long one. The
roster tells me I’m on the ground floor bar, which is a lot busier than the one
on the first floor. And it’s just my luck that when I get there both Shane and
Avery are sitting on stools and sipping on coffees.

“Hello, Jade, isn’t
it?” Avery greets me as I step out from the back room. Shane stays quiet and
lifts his cup to his mouth.

This woman is nice, I
can tell, and since I’ve always kind of felt sorry for her after Noeleen told
me of her wedding obsession, I don’t like the idea of Shane using her. The fact
they’re both sitting here is either a coincidence, or he’s trying to make me
jealous. Okay, so maybe I’m just a little on edge after my encounter with
Patrick this morning and feeling extra suspicious.

“Yep, that’s right, and
you’re Avery. I hear you’re wonderful on the violin.” I haven’t heard that, but
I know she plays, and for some reason I feel the need to give her a compliment.

She smiles modestly.
“Thank you. Shane was telling me about the place you took him to on Sunday. It
sounds amazing.”

“Oh, Ladybirds? Yeah,
it’s a great club. You can come with us next time if you like.”

Her eyes light up, and
I sense an innocence about her, a sheltered life. “Really? I’d love to.”

Shane’s eyes warm as he
takes me in, and I suddenly realise that I was wrong. He wasn’t trying to make
me jealous. He’s just trying to make a new friend, like I’ve been encouraging
him to do. He sees the same innocence in Avery that I see, and he likes that
I’m being nice to her.

“Great. Shane can pick
you up.”

“I’d be glad to,” Shane
puts in.

I wipe down the bar and
go to serve a customer sitting at the other end.

“Jade Lennon, you’re in
big trouble!” I hear Alec’s voice boom jokingly around the room as he walks
toward the bar. I sigh, taking in his dirty work clothes and his dishevelled
Mohawk. Only my brother wouldn’t think twice about walking into a classy place
like this in construction gear. He slides onto a stool and gives Shane a sturdy
handshake before nodding hello to Avery and winking. Her cheeks redden, and I
let out another sigh. Alec never met a vagina he didn’t like.

“To what do I owe this
unexpected pleasure?” I ask as I use a dish towel to dry some glasses.

“I heard you had a
visitor this morning. I’m working on a site close by today, so I thought I’d
drop over and see if you’re all right.”

“I can handle your dad,
Alec.”

“I know that. But he
can be a prick at the best of times. Did he say anything to you?”

“He said a few things.
He always does. Had his mind set on staying at ours, but I threatened him with
calling the police and he skedaddled. We probably won’t be hearing from him
again for a while.”

Both Shane and Avery
are quiet as they listen to our exchange.

“Yeah, he rang me,
giving out hell and calling you every name under the sun. I told him straight
that he couldn’t stay.”

“I’m sorry, Al. I know
he’s your dad and all, but I can’t have him in the house. I’m only starting to
make headway with Pete, and you know if Patrick’s around all that will go to
shit.”

“I know. I don’t want him
there, either.”

When I glance at Shane
for a second, I find concern and protectiveness etched on his face. It makes my
heart stutter.

“Do you want a drink?”
I ask Alec. “Or I could grab you something from the restaurant. Have you eaten
yet?”

He pats his stomach.
“Nope, haven’t had the chance. If you could get your hands on a sandwich, I
wouldn’t say no.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in
a minute.”

The concert hall houses
a restaurant to the front of the building and I’m friends with a couple of the
kitchen staff, so I know it won’t be a problem getting something for Alec. When
I return with a chicken and bacon club, I find Shane gone and Alec sitting on
his vacated stool next to Avery, too close really.

I put the sandwich down
in front of him, and he gives me a grin in thanks.

“So, how long have you
been in the orchestra?” he asks her, and I watch with interest.

I don’t like the idea
of my brother with this girl, mainly because I can see him chewing her up and
spitting her out, but I’m still fascinated. The two of them are so different,
her refined and well-bred, Alec unrefined and rough around the edges. In some
ways they’re like me and Shane. Although I like to think I’m not as rough and
ready as my brother.

“Just over a year,”
Avery replies shyly, focusing intently on her coffee cup as she drains the last
of its contents. She looks like she might have a heart attack from Alec’s
attention. “I’d better get going. It’s not long before the afternoon concert
starts.”

Just as she slides off
her stool, Alec puts down his sandwich and grabs her hand, pulling it to his
mouth and kissing it. I try to hold back my laugh. He can be such a little
chancer at times.

“Hopefully we’ll bump
into each other again sometime,” he says as he looks up at her.

Avery lets out a tiny
gasp and blushes yet again before quickly stealing away.

Alec turns back around
in his stool and resumes eating his sandwich, a pleased gleam in his eye. I
shake my head at him.

“Smooth as ever, bro.”

He grins. “What can I
say? I think I’ve just acquired a taste for posh birds.”

I point a finger at
him. “You leave her alone. She’s not like your usual type.”

“Oh, so it’s all right
for you to punch above your weight, but not me?” he chides me playfully.

I scowl. “What’s that
supposed to mean?”

“The half-Asian pretty
boy. I know you’ve been getting yourself a slice of action there.”

“We’re friends, Alec.
Believe it or not, some people are actually capable of maintaining friendships
with the opposite sex.”

“Some people, but not
you two. I’m not blind.”

God, he’s so right. I
hate that he’s right. “Whatever.”

He lets out a loud,
boisterous laugh. “Ha! I knew it. To be honest, I’m glad for you, sis. I was
beginning to get worried. You haven’t had a bloke since that fuckhead Jason
years ago.”

“We’re not together,
not like that. We just had a bit of a thing…”

“Okay, stop right
there. I don’t want any details,” Alec interrupts, wiping some crumbs off his
mouth with a bar napkin.

I raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, you won’t be getting any.” Sex talk with my brother is not something
that’s on my bucket list, thank you very much. I serve a couple of customers
while he finishes his food.

“So, I suppose I’m on
dinner duty tonight,” he says, setting the plate aside.

“Yeah, if you don’t
mind. I’m working until ten.”

“No problem, I’ll grab
some Chinese.”

A few minutes later he
heads back to work, and I get busy as the bar starts to fill up. When the early
evening crowd have gone and it’s time for my break, I find a message from Shane
on my phone from a few minutes ago.

Sorry
I had 2 leave w/out saying goodbye earlier. Come c me in the dressing room?

I wonder what he wants
to see me for. I have to grab something to eat while I’m on my break, but I
suppose I can spare a few minutes to go talk to him. The dressing room is
mostly empty when I get there; Shane’s sitting, scrolling through his phone
when his head comes up and he spots me approaching. I slide my bum onto the
table in front of him and fold my arms.

“I saw your message.
What’s up?” I say as he tucks his phone back in his pants pocket.

“Have you eaten?” he
asks and winces suddenly, lifting his hand to rub the side of his neck.

“Not yet,” I say, and
frown. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit of
neck strain. It happens when you spend half your life with an instrument tucked
there.” He gives me a half-hearted smile.

“Ouch. Come here,” I
reply before I’ve properly thought it through.

He comes to me
willingly, and I lean closer so I can gently rub his neck. Letting out a low
groan, he melts into my touch, and the noise stirs a tingle between my legs.
His hand rests on my thigh as I continue to massage his sore spot.

“That feels amazing.
Can I hire you as my personal masseuse?”

I chuckle quietly. “I’m
afraid you couldn’t afford me, sir.”

Another low groan. Wow,
that noise is such an aphrodisiac it’s not funny. “Name your price.”

I just shake my head
and keep rubbing until I feel him loosen up. “Any better?”

His eyes move to mine,
hot and seeking. He seems to be considering something, but then simply answers,
“Much better,” and pulls his chair back to its original spot. “So, do you want
to go grab some food?”

“Sure. I was going to
get a burrito. I need the carbs when I’m on my feet all day,” I reply. “Does
that suit you?”

“Suits me fine,” he
says, grabbing his coat.

We walk to the nearby
burrito bar and then decide to sit in the gardens just behind the concert hall
to eat.

“My brother was
chatting up Avery at the bar after you left, you know,” I say before taking a
big bite.

Shane looks surprised.
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought she’d be his, uh, type.”

“Alec doesn’t have a
type. He likes all types. But anyway, maybe you could warn her away from him? I
don’t want her getting hurt when he takes her for a one-night stand and then
never calls her again. She seems like a sensitive girl.”

“Oh, right, that sort
of behaviour must run in the family,” Shane teases me.

I stare at him. “That’s
not that same thing.”

He can barely conceal
his grin. “So you’re saying I’d have seen you again if it hadn’t by chance
turned out that I played in the orchestra?”

“Of course you’d have
seen me again. Every time you walked down Grafton Street, you’d see me standing
there all in blue,” I tease him back.

“Ah, so I’d get to
admire you from afar.”

“Exactly.”

“Kind of feels like
that anyway,” he says quietly.

“That’s not true.
You’re always close, Shane. Too close.”

“Not close enough.”

A silence falls. I take
a couple more bites of my burrito, but I know I can’t finish it. All of a
sudden I’ve lost my appetite. I wrap it up in the foil and put it in my bag.
Perhaps I’ll eat the rest later.

“I’m not sure if I can
agree to what you’ve asked,” I say softly.

He turns to face me,
his brows knit together. “Why not?”

“I just don’t feel up
to that sort of an arrangement,” I answer, my voice breaking slightly.

Understanding in his
gaze, he recognises my inner struggle and nods, putting his arm around my
shoulder and pulling me to his side. “Okay, Bluebird. Let’s forget I ever
brought it up.”

I rest my head on his
shoulder and stare straight ahead, whispering, “Thank you.” And for the next
while we sit in quiet, listening to the water crash in the garden waterfall
close by.

People are all around me, but I’m alone
in my own little world.

The rush of Friday
shoppers flows by like a gushing river, so much movement, and yet I’m absolutely
still. When I’m standing on my box, I like to focus on something tiny,
something nobody else even notices.

On the building on the
other side of the street, a piece of red ribbon has gotten caught on a shop
sign. It flutters in the breeze as though dancing. I’ve been watching it for
the last two hours, completely transfixed. I’ve been watching it for so long
that it’s no longer a single object. Now it’s cheap thread and red dye; it’s
the shine when it catches a certain slant of light. It’s the distant music I
hear when it dances with the wind.

I prick my ears then,
because outside my deep meditation something is breaking through. Something
other than the din of the crowded street. It’s real music, music I recognise.

Curiosity wins out, and
with the slowness you’d expect of a statue that has suddenly sprung to life, I
change my pose so I’m looking in the direction the music is coming from. Just a
few yards away Shane is standing outside a shoe shop playing “Carmen Fantasy”
on his violin.

What’s he doing here?

When he sees that I’m
watching him, he winks. Winks!

Well, now he has my
attention, not to mention the attention of several people who have stopped to
listen to him play. Soon a crowd has formed to watch the virtuoso on the
street. Living statues never really attract crowds. We connect with one or two
people at a time. Music is where the big money is at when it comes to street
performance. That or circus acts. Anything that involves fire and stilts always
attracts interest.

Unless of course you
happen to set yourself on fire or fall off your stilts, and in my years doing
this I’ve witnessed both. Though in all honesty, the accidents bring with them
their own audience.

I like this piece he’s
playing. It reminds me of a tango dance. Shane does this really cool vibrato,
and the crowd cheers. All of a sudden people are pairing off into couples and
tangoing down the street. And don’t even ask me where the women got all those
frilly dresses from, or the men their fancy black tuxedos.

Soon I’m surrounded not
by shoppers but a street full of ballroom dancers. The bright blue sky darkens,
the outdoor air drifts away, and I’m indoors in a ballroom that extends
forever. Chandeliers hang from ceilings, light glittering through the cut
crystal. Antique candelabras all around are lit with long, thin candlesticks.

A couple struts around
my box. The man dips the woman low and runs his hand down her thigh, which is
exposed by a deep slit in her dress. He lifts her up and twirls her away from
me. The piece approaches its finish, and the room begins to brighten. The
enclosed ceiling turns back into the open sky, and the glittering chandeliers
are replaced by dull white clouds.

Shane’s music ends, and
there are no dancers anymore, just ordinary shoppers like before. Sometimes I
hate it when the music stops, hate the finality. Lots of people put money in
the open violin case at his feet, and he thanks them gracefully. I smile when
he packs up his things and walks toward me.

I haven’t moved a
muscle since I turned to see where the music was coming from. He looks up at me
as though admiring a work of art, his eyes landing on my wings, my white face,
the waistline of my dress. Standing before me, he gives a deep bow, then rises
and walks away, a smile on his lips all the while.

Okay, that was possibly
the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Needless to say, I’ve never had
a man come and play music while I stood on the street in my costume. All of a
sudden a loud involuntary laugh bursts out of my mouth. It’s so full of simple
happiness that I find it difficult to breathe.

What is he doing to me?

Why is he doing this to
me?

He doesn’t even know
it, but he’s making me love him.

***

When Sunday comes I
have to work, so I can’t make it to Ladybirds like I promised Shane and Avery.
They agree to put it off until another week, since they both have a concert to
play anyway. A week and a half passes by, and somehow every time I’m busking on
the street Shane manages to show up to play me a song.

Sometimes it’s hours
before he makes an appearance. Other times it’s only minutes.

I’m beginning to think
he must be psychic because I busk on different days each week, but he always
knows when I’m going to be there. I guess he figures it out by checking to see
if I’m working. When I’m not working I’m almost always busking, unless April or
Pete need me. Mostly though, they need me less and less these days. There’s
something quite heart-breaking about watching the kids you’ve cared for
transform into adults.

I’m smiling from ear to
ear as I stroll home on a Wednesday afternoon. Shane came and played “Dance of
the Sugar Plum Fairy” to me by finger-plucking the strings; the whole time my
belly was fizzy with emotion. The grey street was transformed into a glowing
forest awash with mischievous winged creatures. One night he came and played
“Clair de Lune,” and I paid a visit to my friend the moon, sitting on his round
white head while I listened. Another time he played “Estrellita” and I was
sufficiently seduced. Of course, he didn’t know that.

I don’t know what I’d
do if I couldn’t hear him play again.

Dropping into a nearby
newsagents, I grab some milk, bread, and other necessities, paying for it all
with a whole bunch of coins because it’s the last of my money until I get paid
on Friday. One downside of relying on the money people give to you on the
street to buy stuff is that you end up having to pay for everything with small
change. The girl at the checkout lets out a sigh when she sees me coming. I
shop in here quite a bit, so she knows I’m the chick with the coins.

Sometimes I go to the
bank and get it changed to notes, but I don’t always have the time for that. It
seems to me that banks open some of the shortest hours of all businesses. I
mean, unless I want to spend my entire lunch hour queuing, I’m not going to
make it there between ten and four.

When I reach my street,
pulling my box along on its wheels with one hand and carrying my shopping bag
in the other, I spot Barry in the tiny patch of grass that makes up his front
garden. Local authority housing in the city centre doesn’t exactly allow for
large garden spaces.

Anyway, back to Barry.

It’s an unseasonably
warm day, and he’s brought an armchair out from his living room and placed it
in a nice sunny spot. Beside him is a plastic foldaway table on which sits a
radio streaming commentary for a football game, alongside a bottle of
Budweiser.

He’s lounging back in
his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, eyes closed as he soaks up a few
rays. The picture of contentment. I have to admire him for how much he doesn’t
give a shit about being weird. I think that’s the main reason why he’s the only
neighbour I actually get along with.

I suppose that once you
reach fifty, have worked your arse off all your adult life to support a family
and have lost half your hair, you’re entitled to do as you please. The
commentators get riled up as one of the teams scores a goal, and I’m guessing
it was Barry’s team because he jumps up from his armchair and pumps his fist
into the air, letting out a bellow of triumph.

I laugh as I walk to my
house.

“I see you’re making
the most of the sun while it lasts,” I call out to him.

“Yes, yes I am,” he
replies, grinning and reaching for his beer bottle. “And I’m not the only one,
it seems.”

He nods in the
direction of an apartment block that overshadows our street. It’s got those
metal frames on the windows that aren’t quite a balcony and aren’t quite a
window box. One of the windows has been thrown wide open, and there are two
shirtless teenage guys sitting on the ledge with their legs dangling out,
sunning themselves.

“You do it better,” I
tell him. “And safer. I can see one of them falling from that window if they
aren’t careful.”

“Feckin’ eegits,” Barry
agrees, and returns his attention to the radio.

Just as I’m stepping out
of the shower a half hour later, my phone starts to ring, the number of an
agency I sometimes work for flashing on the screen.

“Hello,” I answer,
multi-tasking talking on the phone and rubbing my hair dry with a towel.

“Hey, Jade,” Jonathan,
the HR guy who used to get me regular temp gigs before I started working at the
concert hall, greets me. “Please tell me you’re free tonight.”

“Free as a bird. Have
you got some work for me?” I ask with interest. Last-minute agency jobs usually
pay decent money, and I could do with a little cash injection. I’m expecting my
electricity and gas bills any day now.

“I might. You’ve got
silver service experience, haven’t you?”

“I do indeed. I’ve been
a server in a couple of hotels over the years.”

“Yes, I thought I saw
that on your resume. Right, well, we’re providing the manpower for a charity
event tonight. It’s a dinner-auction affair, and one of our servers has had to
pull out. Can you fill in for her? It pays one-fifty for the whole evening.”

“I’ll be there with
bells on. Where’s it being held?”

Jonathan fills me in on
the details, and I memorise them before hanging up and throwing a sandwich
together for lunch. I’m not scheduled to be at the concert hall until tomorrow
evening, so I can afford to work late tonight. There’s a knock at the door, and
since I’m the only one home I go to answer it.

Pete’s scumbag “friend”
Damo and two other boys in their late teens stand on the doorstep.

“Pete’s at school,” I
tell them, and go to close the door. Damo sticks his foot out to stop me.

“You’ll tell him we’ve
been looking for him, yeah?”

The aggression in his
voice raises my hackles, so I kick his foot away from the door. “Aren’t you a
little old to be hanging around with Pete?” I ask, because sometimes I can’t
help myself but to invite trouble.

Damo narrows his eyes
to slits, looking outraged that I just kicked his foot. “You ever do that
again, and I’ll put a brick through your window,” he threatens me.

Okay, now it’s on. I
step forward, and all three boys back up a bit. Yeah, I can be scary when I
want to be, and there’s something about the mother hen in me that makes me get
all protective when it comes to my younger siblings. People harming my family
is a big trigger for me.

“You break my window,
and I’ll break your face. Now fuck off, and don’t call here again.”

Damo’s threatening
stance falters for a split second, but he quickly puts it back in place before
his two friends notice. “Just tell Pete we were looking for him,” he spits, and
then nods to the others to follow him before stomping away.

Yep, I definitely won
that round. I’ll keep that drug-dealing piece of shit away from my brother if
it’s the last thing I do.

A couple of hours later
Pete arrives home just as I’m placing a lasagne and salad on the table for his
dinner. He looks exhausted and, if I’m not mistaken, a little bit haunted. It
concerns me. Dropping down into a seat, he lets out a long sigh and then starts
silently eating. I lean against the side of the fridge, studying him.

“Damo and two of his
friends came knocking for you earlier,” I say, and watch his reaction.

His eyes widen, and he
seems flustered when he responds, “Did they say what they wanted?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

“Has something
happened?”

He swallows a mouthful
of food. “Uh, not really.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Nah.” He’s quiet for a
long time before he says, “I might have seen something that freaked me out.”

“Like…?”

He scratches the spot
below his ear. “This guy Damo was dealing to wouldn’t pay up, said he gave him
shit coke, so Damo beat him.”

“And you were freaked?
This is the world you said you wanted to live in, Pete.”

“I’m not talking about
a few slaps, Jade. He beat him so badly he had to be hospitalised. Fucking
hell, I can still see the lad’s face…all bloody, all wrong.” His voice starts
to choke up, and then tears are running down his cheeks. Shit. I hurry to his
side and throw my arms around his shoulders. Sometimes it feels like he’s
growing up so fast, but really, he’s still just a kid.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,”
I murmur as I hold him to me. “I’ll get Alec to have a word with Damo, tell him
to stay away from you.”

Pete’s head comes up as
he wipes at his tears. “You think he’ll listen?”

I grin. “Have you seen
your brother these days? Of course that skinny little shit will listen.”

Pete nods and seems to
calm down. Then he gets embarrassed when he realises he’d just been crying in
front of his big sister. He pulls away, clearing his throat, and then finishes
his food. I go upstairs to get ready for the agency gig, a feeling of relief
washing over me. Pete is finally seeing sense that Damo is bad news.